


Smorgas-Over-bord

by Czaritsa (RomaStache)



Series: Red Velvet Reel [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cooking, Established Relationship, M/M, PICPE summary in the endnotes, Slice of Life, Spicyhoney - Freeform, This section features the PICPE, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), a stab at explaining monster nutrition and digestion i guess, edge is also insecure about his cooking and kind of lashes out, fyi if you're sensitive to that stuff, headcanons so many headcanons, i don't know if it may be triggering or upsetting to people so, it's a pregnant-monster specific condition that impacts magic ingestion!, its not like an eating disorder or anything but, monster pregnancy, monster pregnancy headcanons, skelepreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomaStache/pseuds/Czaritsa
Summary: Between the parentMOOD wreaking havoc on his emotions and the eventful green magic diagnostic session with the doctor, Stretch is ready to be over and done with this quarter. At least the next pregnancy milestone is only going to zap Edge this time, and the PICPE isn't even that bad! Edge just eats whatever Pancake wants him to eat. Super simple and easy, right?





	1. Picky?

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This installment features the introduction of the PICPE, which I don't want to spoil, but impacts pregnant monster's magic ingestion capabilities. Think of it as a really, really intense form of cravings. I'm going to explain it in greater detail next chapter, but just wanted to warn you that while it's not an eating disorder, it does limit Edge's ability to consume foods against his will. Please be warned! (I will included a spoilery explanation of the PICPE in the endnotes for you to evaluate if it's upsetting to you or not!)
> 
> I don't think this chapter really needs any warnings aside from that one, but just in case, it features:  
> Very brief mentions of Emetophobia (literally like four words, total)! Edge and Stretch arguing! Edge being really cagey about his issues and super duper insecure about his cooking abilities! Edge lashing out because of these insecurities! Lasagna!

 

  
This was officially the longest week in Stretch’s whole entire life, even beating out Sophomore year when his school experimented with stretching Sports Day out the entire week.  
  
  
Today was supposed to be a nice, simple, lazy Saturday… which didn’t involve mystery guests knocking the Terminator theme on his door.  
  
  
The building guard hadn’t phoned to let them know they had any visitors today, which meant it was probably Blue and/or Red. And as terrible as it sounded, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with either or both of them today. Flattening himself against the wall, Stretch very cautiously peered around the corner, down the hallway leading to their front door to see… Classic and Comic! With Comic knocking on the inside of his door!   
  
  
Of everything he hadn’t been expecting this week, _this_ , at least, was a welcome surprise!  
  
  
“Hi guys!” Stretch pulled his friend into a hug the minute he was within arm’s length, holding a fist out to Comic. In customary fashion, Classic returned the hug vigorously with one hand, using the other to nab his brother by the hood and pull him in, too. “I am _so_ happy to see you guys! It’s been like, forever!”  
  
  
“Hello, Stretch!  We’re very happy to see you too! It’s actually only been 26 days and 14 hours since we last saw each other, but-“ Classic cut himself off with a gasp as he pulled back, immediately taking Stretch’s face in his hands. He tilted the skull towards the light, squinting at the gauze, “Oh no! What happened to your poor skull?! Does it hurt?!”  
  
  
“Nah, I’m fine,” Stretch resigned himself to the gentle fussing, looking at Comic instead as Classic gently traced the gauze with his mitten. It kinda tickled. “We went in for the 2nd Quarter checkup the other day, and I slipped on something. Ended up smacking my head against Undyne. It was just a bruise, but you know Blue and Edge.”  
  
  
“I agree with them! It’s always better to be safe than sorry! I would have added a knit hat, too, just to be extra safe!” Classic forced his head down, eyeing the gauze critically as though he were looking for something specific, “How is your Undyne?”  
  
  
“Oh, she’s fine, ” Stretch shrugged as best he could, manhandled into another angle that had him facing Comic sideways, “Her HP is 360 and it didn’t even dent it. It’s funny, her HP is kind of on the low side, too, but it seems a lot higher when you compare it to my 15, so no one really fusses over her the same way. I think it’s also the fact she has hair and a tail and MD to hide behind.”  
  
  
“Probably! Monsters like to think doctors know how to take care of themselves, but that’s _not_ true! Alphys and Sans, for example, are absolutely **_hopeless_ **on their own!” Classic agreed cheerfully, before tapping the spot just to the right of Stretch’s forehead, “I’m going to kiss you right here! While I am sure Edge and your brother have given you many get-well kisses, you can never have too many!”  
  
  
Looking very solemn, he pressed a kiss to the gauze, “Mwah! Hurt, hurt, go away! And don’t leave a scar!”  
  
  
_Awww._ Even through the gauze, Stretch could feel the slight tingle of Classic’s healing Intent. It resonated with the green magic being released by the healing item, amplifying its energy and soothing properties. He sighed gratefully, “Thanks, man, I feel better already.”  
  
  
“Of course you do!” Classic puffed his chest out proudly, scarf billowing majestically behind him as Comic moved it with two long bones, “Papyrus kisses are extra magical because they are so rare and difficult to give, for you see, I have no lips!”  
  
  
“Yes, thank you,” Stretch decided not to point out that none of them had lips. “So, what can we do for you guys?”  
  
  
“Oh! Yes! We are here to see you! Because!” Classic looked down, browbones furrowed in thought like he was trying to remember something, “We thought it would be nice to check in on you! Both of you! How are you, as a couple?”  
  
  
“Uh.” It was kind of a weird question, but hardly the weirdest thing Classic ever asked him. Maybe word about his parent _MOOD_ had gotten around and they were just worried. Like the good friends they were.  
  
  
“We’re... gooooood? I think,” Stretch leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper, “It’s been a _little_ tense lately because my parent _MOOD_ was driving Edge crazy, but it’s better now. I’ve been the chillest I’ve been all week.”  
  
  
Twiddling his thumbs, he glanced behind him at the kitchen furtively, “But now Edge is cooking up a storm, which means he’s either: A) inspired or B) trying to blow off steam. I can’t tell which right now. He’s always been kinda intense when it comes to cooking, so I’m trying to give him a little space.“  
  
  
“Ah! Wonderful to hear! I mean, how unfortunate! Space can be… great! Sometimes! In any case!” Classic clapped his hands together, looking like he was about to say something before his face fell. After staring at him blankly for a moment, he continued enthusiastically, “Oh, yes, I remember! Let’s go out to lunch, then! Together! You and I and Sans! And leave Edge! To his cooking!!”  
  
  
“Um...” Had someone put him up to this? Classic’s smile stretched even further and he looked nervous. “But Edge is cooking a bunch,” Stretch scratched at his cheek thoughtfully, “Why don’t _you_ stay for lunch instead? Edge has always enjoyed your company, so I bet you’d be just the thing to brighten his mood.”  
  
  
He gestured towards the kitchen, starting to herd them in that direction, “I’m sure he’ll be happy to have some guinea pigs, too, ‘cause I think he’s made the same dish like, three times now-“  
  
  
“We must _not_! Because! Um!” Classic almost looked like he was in pain, flailing in the literal and verbal sense. Comic easily sidestepped a rogue hand, leaning forward to just avoid the elbow, too, “We don’t! Even know what he is making! Yes! There are allergies and lactose intolerance and all that to consider! We don’t have any because we are skeletons, but we should still be considerate! So let’s go out instead! Far, far, faaaar away!”  
  
  
Stretch’s easygoing smile stretched a little tighter, “I’m pretty sure my husband’s cooking is more delicious than anything you could get at a restaurant. And it’s lasagna today, the kind with bechamel sauce and ham, so I _know_ you’ll like it, Classic. I’m gonna have to insist you try some.”   
  
  
“Um, okay, of course-” Classic shrank back, giving him a very crooked, nervous-looking smile as magic started to bead his forehead.   
  
  
Whoops, was he too harsh again? Damn this parent _MOOD_ for making him so touchy. Wasn’t it supposed to be more subdued now anyway?! Before Stretch could apologize, Classic started waving his hand in the air like he was trying to point at the entire ceiling.  
  
  
“Edge is a very good cook, I _agree_ and _know_ , but today is **_not_ ** a good day for lunch together _here_! There is a **_very_** good and reasonable explanation, which you will agree is **_very_** good and reasonable! It’s a little complicated! But, Sans knows it!” Classic turned to his brother, waving both arms in obvious consternation, “Sans, tell him!”  
  
  
Comic shrugged, picking at his teeth in obvious disinterest, “You should come with us ‘cause Edge asked us to take you out to lunch.”  
  
  
“Edge.” Stretch repeated slowly, trying to process that statement, “ **_Edge_ ** -Edge? **_My_ ** Edge-Edge??” He didn’t have eyebrows, but they would probably be raised with the utmost incredulity and surprise, “ **_He’s_ **the one who put you up to this?!?!”  
  
  
**_“Sans!”_** Classic gasped, horrified and scandalized, “We weren’t supposed to say **_anything!”_  
**  
  
“Whoops,“ Stretch heard Comic say with absolutely no remorse, but he was too busy making a beeline to the kitchen to pay attention to that right now.   
  
  
“Edge!” He burst into the kitchen so quickly, his husband nearly dropped the cake pan he was holding, “Edge, what’s wrong?!”  
  
  
“What-?” As soon as Edge put the cake pan on the counter, Stretch pulled him close and took his oven mitt hands in his own.  
  
  
“You’re trying to get rid of me!” Stretch accused, surprised and hurt, “Why? Is it something I did? Didn’t do? I thought we were good now! What do you need me to do? What’s _wrong?_ Why did you bring Classic and Comic into this? _”  
  
  
_Classic ducked his head back around the corner at the mention of his name, coughing lightly before peering around the doorway sheepishly, “Er, hi Edge! How are you today? I regretfully report that Operation Casual Lunch was a resounding failure!”   
  
  
Comic took that immediate opportunity to enter the kitchen breezily, heedless of the accusatory glare leveled at his back, “The other operative needs more training in intelligence and counterintelligence techniques before he’s ready for the field! Next time, I’ll work alone!”  
  
  
The kitchen was silent for several seconds as Edge looked at the Undertale brothers and then his husband, before slipping his hands out of the oven mitts. “Classic!” Leaving Stretch to hold them, Edge made a big show of pulling Classic into the kitchen, doing that weird cheek-press thing he did to show extra affection.  
  
  
“Comic!” He did the same thing to Comic, standing awkwardly with his hands clasped in front of him. Although he was doing a good job sounding pleased and surprised, Edge’s performance was too stiff to be very believable, “What a _complete_ surprise! Welcome-”   
  
  
_“Are you serious?!”_ Stretch was getting increasingly frustrated, feeling like he was being left out of something important, “You’re _all_ already **_busted!_ **What’s going on here?! Why did you invite these two over? Why did you make three lasagnas? What’s wrong?”  
  
  
“Nothing! _Nothing_ is wrong!” Edge answered quickly and unconvincingly, “We can talk later, privately, after you leave to eat somewhere that isn’t here-“  
  
  
“Ohmigod, Edge!” Stretch rubbed at his face, trying very hard not to raise his voice even as his unease grew, “We just talked about secrets and being honest with each other! You’re freaking me out-”  
  
  
“There’s _nothing_ to be worried about!” Edge snapped irritably, looking upset, “So do _not_ start that again, _Papirus Letraset Linotipo ITC de Underswap_ , or **_you’ll see-!”_  
  
  
**“Excuse me!” Classic cleared his throat pointedly, drumming his fingers on the doorway nervously, “We have clearly caught you at a bad time! And we hate to intrude, but it sounds like perhaps you may need a mediator?”  
  
  
“We’re fine,” Edge answered curtly, hands crossed over his chest tightly as he scowled at his husband, “Thank you. Please just leave-”  
  
  
“They’re just trying to help! How can you expect them to leave and **_not_ ** worry after all this?!” Stretch didn’t really like arguing with Edge, but he had to defend them. They had come here trying to help them, after all. “And you know what? Maybe we _do_ need a mediator.”  
  
  
“Stretch-” Edge started to say, closing his eyes and putting a hand against his skull like he was getting a headache.  
  
  
“It’s obviously not something you can talk to me about directly,” Stretch sighed, going to lean against the counter on the other side of the kitchen to give his husband a little space, “So maybe it’ll help if we have a neutral party listen to both sides and help us come to a better understanding. I know it’s been a difficult couple of days, and that you’re sick of me getting all up in your business, but I’m not going to let you suffer in silence, okay? So stop trying to push me and our friends away. _Please.”  
  
  
_“Stretch.” Edge buried his face in both hands, sounding almost like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.  
  
  
“My bro’s a really good helper if you need any helping,” Comic added unhelpfully, eyeing the lasagna in the oven, “But maybe we shouldn’t do this on an empty stomach. Lots of delicious _bech-ham-el_ lasagna to go around, eh?”  
  
  
“No! It’s- _ay, putadechu-!”_ Edge started swearing loudly in Underfellese before throwing his hands up, “Okay! Fine, **_fine!”_  
  
  
******Crossing them over his chest sulkily, he sighed heavily before looking off to the side “It’s… food. The _lasaña._ It’s bad.”  
  
  
He looked frustrated as he glared daggers at the lasagna (in a cake pan?) cooling on the counter. So upset, in fact, Stretch thought he might try and throw the whole thing away, pan and all, “It’s **_bad!_ ** It’s _very, very_ ugly! It’s not good and I don’t know how to **_fix_ **it! Every single time, it’s horrible!”  
  
  
Edge finally looked up, something vulnerable in his expression despite the vicious tone, “So **_there!_ ** Just go **_away!_ ** Leave me **_alone!”_  
  
  
**Ah, so that’s what was bothering him. “Come on, darlin’, don’t be like that,” Stretch tried to keep his voice low and soothing, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket as he worried at his ring nervously. He wasn’t sure what he could do or say to make his husband feel better, feeling more than a little lost. “You’re being too hard on yourself. This is a completely normal part of pregnancy, ok? Dyna warned you that your palate was going to change-”  
  
  
“She **_didn’t!”_   **Edge looked dangerously close to losing his cool, something broken in his expression. He started pacing, hugging himself miserably,, “She **_never_ ** said my **_cooking_ ** would be **_ruined!”_  
  
  
**“That’s a little dramatic-”   
  
  
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Classic asked kindly, speaking extra loudly to drown Stretch’s commentary out.  
  
  
“Yes, _please,_ leave!” Edge latched onto the offer (and Classic) immediately, giving him a desperate little shake, “And take **_him_ **with you! Make him eat lots of greens!”  
  
  
“Well, okay.” Classic held his hands up in a clear sign of submission, smile sad but understanding as Edge pushed him towards the door, “We’ll get out of your hair and take Stretch with us, then.”  
  
  
“But I don’t wanna go!“ Stretch started protesting, digging his heels into the ground as Classic put a gentle but firm hand on his back. “Edge! C’mon, Babe, calm down-!“  
  
  
“Come along, Stretch,” Classic said pleasantly, hugging the other skeleton to his chest like a petulant child, “Let’s give Edge some space and time! Even experienced, talented chefs need to tweak their recipes, sometimes!”  
  
  
He started prying Stretch’s hands off of the doorway, continuing to talk cheerfully as he managed to pin one arm to his chest, “Culinary experimentation can be a very, very good thing! In an hour or two, I’m sure it’ll smell even _more_ delicious and-”  
  
  
_“Nojodes!”_ Edge demanded, sounding like he was somewhere between desperation and anger, grabbing onto Classic’s free hand, “It _really_ smells good? _Really?!”  
  
  
_“Ye-” Before Classic could finish answering, Edge was hurrying back to the cupboard, taking out three small plates. He wrenched a nearby drawer open next, taking out several utensils.  
  
  
“But how does it _taste?”_ He used a pie server to cut out three small pieces of the cake pan lasagna, transferring them onto three different plates. Three plates with Winnie the Pooh, half the cast of Sesame Street, and Thomas the Tank Engine on them, respectively. Guess they were breaking these in a little early, then. “Does it taste _bad?_   Bad enough to _throw up?”  
  
  
_Edge did the same thing with the large and medium-sized baking dish lasagnas, absently placing the fancy forks on each of them, “I need you to tell me the truth. Even if it’s very, very bad.”   
  
  
He then busied himself with pouring water in the cocktail glasses, offering everyone a glass and then a plate, “This is the normal kind, this is the one with chicken, and this is the Underswap kind...” He paused to hold the plate back from Comic to say, very seriously, “Especially if it’s very, very bad. Okay?”  
  
  
Yeesh, he was really, really messed up over this, huh? There was absolutely no way he could tell Edge his lasagna tasted bad, even if it actually did. Stretch was careful to scoop a small bite onto his fork, very conscious of Edge’s eyes on his face as he raised it to his mouth.   
  
  
“You talking from experience there, buddy?” Comic asked conversationally, having at some point pulled out a chair at the table. He speared a piece of noodle and ham, swirling it in the Bechamel sauce, that immediately attracted Edge’s attention instead, “Couldn’t _stomach_ it?”  
  
  
Stretch gave Comic a dirty look, but at least his husband didn’t seem offended by that comment. For all his fussing they all leave immediately, for all his sensitivity on this issue, Edge changed his mind pretty fast.  
  
  
**_“No.”_** Edge sighed, worrying at an invisible stain with the toe of his house slippers, “I couldn’t keep it _down.“_ His voice was tight and miserable, “I can’t remember the last time I failed a recipe. Not since I was still learning to cook.”  
  
  
Looking off to the cake-pan lasagna, sitting forlornly on a potholder, he started cracking his joints, “This is the first recipe I learned. I didn’t stop making it until it was good. I don’t make bad lasaña anymore. What if all my recipes are bad? What if I can’t cook anymore? Who is going to take care of Stretch? What if Pancake-”  
  
  
“Oh my god! It’s not that bad! Your lasagna **_isn’t_** inedible!” How the heck was he supposed to mitigate this?! Stretch made sure to stuff as much of all types of lasagna as possible into his mouth, making sure to chew loudly. It was… it was really weird, like the magical component of each individual ingredient was being absorbed individually, one right after the other. But it wasn’t that bad, actually. “Hrgh-“  
_  
  
“Atatay!”_ Edge turned away as Stretch tried to talk through his mouthful, shuddering in disgust. Not disgusted enough from literally grabbing onto his husband’s jaw to force it shut, however.  
  
  
“Don’t talk until you finish eating!” He scolded, bringing his free hand to rest on his hip disapprovingly, “Pancake needs to learn to be a good, judicious monster from _you!_ So you need to chew **gently** and **quietly** like a **_civilized_** monster!”  
  
  
“Heh.” Comic held his pinkie up as he took a dainty bite. He made a show of chewing slowly, really savoring it before finally swallowing. His easy smile dropped immediately, probably surprised by the strange way he was absorbing the magic, with an expression that was difficult to interpret,  “Huh. Taste’s kinda...”  
_  
  
“Bad?”_ Edge asked anxiously. Stretch felt the fingers holding his mouth shut tighten until it was borderline painful. ****_“Horrible?!”_


	2. It's PICPE!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features:  
> Edge STILL being really cagey about his issues and super duper insecure about his cooking abilities! Edge lashing out because of these insecurities! (But he gets over it, sort of, later! Edge's palate being super duper weird! So much pseudo-magic-science and fudging of game aspects! Informational discussion on monster nutrition! So many headcanons. Cooking! Classic is a fantastic, wonderfully patient friend!
> 
> It's also super long, omg.

“Tastes fine to me” With that very anti-climatic statement, Comic started on the second slice. This time, he managed to keep his expression neutral, “This one’s... also fine.”  
  
  
“Your taste is bad,” Edge continued stubbornly, looking at Comic like he grew another head. He kept his arms wrapped around his stomach, browbones furrowed, “Your tongue died-”  
  
  
Comic choked on a laugh, coughing into his shoulder as Edge continued unperturbed, “And now you can’t taste anything. You are not lying, but you are not a good judge.”  
  
  
“Edge,” Stretch tilted his head so he could get his words out, although this angle was going to be murder on his neck later, “You’re not making any sense! Your lasagna is _just fine!_ I’m _telling_ you: different isn’t _bad-“  
  
  
_ “Pancake is making you say that!” Edge released his jaw with an annoyed huff, turning to look at Classic instead, “How is it? _Please_ tell me the truth.”  
  
  
“Um.” Classic took his time answering, very carefully moving the bite-sized piece around his plate. Stretch honestly couldn’t tell if he had taken a bite yet or not.  
  
  
“It’s... _different!”_ He said at length, cheerfulness muted by an unplaceable emotion, “I’ve never had monster food like _this_ before!”  
  
  
Edge jolted as though he had been slapped, shoulders slumping as he looked away miserably, “It **_is_** bad-“  
  
  
“I didn’t say _that!”_ Classic clarified quickly, moving the lasagna about his plate a little stiffly. He was obviously uncomfortable, trying to find a way between being honest and not hurting Edge’s feelings. “It just! It doesn’t have any **_green magic_** in it! How did you ** _do_** that?”  
  
  
He frowned at his plate, talking to the lasagna like it was about to answer his questions, “Monster food _always_ has green magic! If there’s no green magic, is it because there’s no _intent?_ You didn’t actually _want_ to make this? That’s why it’s... off??”  
  
  
“It’s not so much a lack of intent as it’s a side effect from pregnancy,” Stretch felt the need to clarify, carefully reaching out to put a hand on Edge’s shoulder. His husband shrugged him off immediately, though, so he took a step back. “But, again, it happens to every single expecting monster. And it’ll be over soon enough.”  
  
  
“Are you sure?” Classic put the plate off to the side with a sigh, “I don’t think it’s _just_ that...” He tilted his head to the side, looking at Edge quizzically, “What _do_ you want to make?”  
  
  
 ** _“Nothing!”_** The shift in Edge’s demeanor was instantaneous, from depressed and resigned to flustered and indignant. His skull flushed red with embarrassment, a frantic desperation in his tone, “There is _absolutely_ ** _nothing_** I want to make instead!” His eye light darted to the corner of the counter for a moment, as if checking to make sure something was hidden, before going right back to staring Classic down. “Why would you _say_ that?! Why would you _think_ that?!”  
  
  
“Edge.” Come to think of it, his husband _had_ been really secretive about what he had been eating the other day, too, “There’s no reason to be embarrassed-”  
  
  
“No!” Stretch reeled back as a hand was clamped on his mouth, “ _You_ just be quiet-!”  
  
  
“What’s this, then?” Classic was a lot louder and theatrical than his brother, which made it easy for Comic to fade into the background. Now, he was sitting on the corner of the counter, legs dangling and a brown bowl in his lap. Comic stirred the contents with mild interest, “Some kind of new spaghetti?”  
  
  
“I **_love_** spaghetti! Edge, why didn’t you just _say_ so?!” Classic bounced over with excited glee, crouching down next to his brother so he could peer into the bowl curiously, “What kind of recipe-“ He stopped abruptly, eyes going wide.  
  
  
Stretch didn’t understand what was going on, but Edge was suddenly behind him like he was trying to hide. Face buried in his hands as his skull positively burned, enough that Stretch could feel the embarrassment burning into his back. Given that Edge didn’t want to be touched earlier, Stretch just let him lean against his back without comment.  
  
  
“Edge.” Classic’s tone was too forced to be casual, with a strong undertone of horror, “Those are _rice noodles!”  
  
  
_ “...Yes.” Edge answered miserably.  
  
  
“With **_marinara sauce!”  
  
  
_** “...yes...” Stretch could feel his husband’s sharp cheekbones start to dig into his spine.  
  
  
“And _mussels?!”_ Stretch was immensely grateful Edge couldn’t see him grimace from that angle. _Ew._ “With carrots-“  
  
  
“It’s... pumpkin....”  
  
  
 **“Pumpkin?!** And what’s _this?”  
  
  
_ “Yes pumpkin, and that’s cheese!” Edge snapped irritably, storming over to wrench the bowl out of Comic’s hands.  
  
  
“So **_what?”_** He asked aggressively, fisting one hand into Classic’s scarf to drag the other skeleton down to eye level, “I can’t cook something simple like lasagna, and instead want to make this!” Edge gestured at the dish with one hand aggressively, “This- this- this _nightmare_ dish! Very _crazy_ combination! Um-“  
  
  
He looked over his shoulder, some sort of plea in his eye lights. Stretch did his best to end the ostentatious descriptions with a bang, “A culinary _abomination_ far beyond the understanding of us mere mortal monsters!”  
  
  
 _“Yes!”_ At least Edge seemed to have liked that. He watched as his husband shoved Classic backwards into the counter, colliding into Comic. There was a loud bang, but aside from suprised, the Undertale brothers seemed fine. “But it has the right magic! It’s what the baby needs! So, it’s what I’m going to eat, _hijo de puta!”  
  
  
_ “Of course!” Classic held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, coughing lightly at the unexpected aggression, “Little Pancake’s well-being and nutrition are of paramount importance, and you should feel free to eat whatever horrible combinations they want!”  
  
  
“...Yes!” That comment obviously stung despite the haughty tone, since Edge immediately put the bowl on the counter and moved it out of sight. “And I don’t care what _you_ or _anyone else_ thinks!” He asserted proudly, although it was obvious he very much cared and was incredibly embarrassed. Still better than the weird depression-despair of earlier, though.  
  
  
“They’re… very creative!” Classic was still trying to put a positive spin on this, poor guy, “I admire your babybone’s adventurous palate and unconventional food choices!”  
  
  
“It’s not that Pancake is demanding these exact combinations,” Stretch put his empty plate down in the sink before tucking his hands in his hoodie pocket, “It’s more like... Soulings are picky. They know exactly what kind of magic they need, right now, and they will only accept food that conforms to these very specific magical requirements. Medically, this is known Parent-Infant Concurrent Palate Effect, but most people call it PICPE for short. ‘Cause it sounds a lot like picky.”  
  
  
“Huh. That sounds vaguely familiar.” Classic tilted his head curiously, “What if the food doesn’t fit these very specific magical requirements?”  
  
  
“Then-“ Stretch glanced at Edge, wary of saying anything that would deepen that sour expression, “Pancake rejects it. So, it’s not that my husband is suddenly a bad cook, or that this food is inedible, it’s just that _he_ ** _can’t_** eat it because _Pancake_ ** _doesn’t_** _want_ to eat it.”  
  
  
Edge didn’t look at him, just sort of huffed indignantly. Ah well, he tried... “We’re still figuring out how his palate has changed to adapt to Pancake’s nutritional needs, and how that impacts his ability to cook and taste. But, it’s not like it’s the end of the world or anything. We’ll be just fine, right?”  
  
  
Strangely enough, Edge didn’t look at all reassured by that statement. He looked even more put out that before, actually, arms crossed in a way that looked like he was hugging himself. Shoot.  
  
  
Before he could say anything, Classic pulled Edge into a reassuring hug that lifted him clear off his feet. “Poor thing,” He cooed softly, gently patting the other skeleton’s back, “That doesn’t sound like very much fun.”  
  
  
So Edge was willing to accept _Classic_ hugs but **not** _Stretch_ hugs?! Stretch tried to push his indignation deep down.  
  
  
“I dunno,” Comic shrugged, leaning back on his hands, “Having a tiny tyrant hold your palate hostage sounds like it might be a little fun.”  
  
  
“Sans! That’s so rude!” Classic swung himself so Edge wasn’t facing Comic anymore, looking scandalized, “And you’re a big _weirdo_ if you think being forced to eat such unorthodox combinations is ** _fun!”  
  
  
_** “It doesn’t _have_ to be so weird-” Stretch felt kinda bad for being facetious when the Undertale brothers actually managed to make his husband smile, but... “I mean, as long as Edge gets the base magic all balanced out, it’s not like Pancake cares. They don’t know the difference between eggplants or grapes, or between oranges or carrots or pumpkin, just that it’s orange magic and purple magic. We just need to be more colorful when we go shopping tomorrow.”  
  
  
Classic looked blank, “Huh?”  
  
  
 _“Shopping!”_ Stretch repeated brightly, feeling Edge glare daggers at him. Ok, he shouldn’t have called that stuff weird, but that extra heaping of guilt was totally unnecessary. Thanks a lot, Pancake. “We usually shop on Tuesday nights, since there are a lot less people there than on the weekend, but they’re having a sale on Monday since it’s that human holiday-“  
  
  
“Yes! You told me last year!” Classic smiled, finally putting Edge back on his feet. “We have a human holiday for a different dead human on Friday! And I love sales too! But my question was _actually_ about food colors!”  
  
  
“What about them?” Stretch was trying to anticipate what the other skeleton was going to ask, but Classic always was rather unpredictable, “Are you interested in the effect pregnancy has on a monster’s diet? It’s not too different from that of regular monsters, just a little more specificity and sensitivity. Nutrition isn’t my area of expertise, but I’ve picked up a few things from listening to Dyne gush about Allie’s juice making, so-“  
  
  
“That’s all very different though!” Classic pointed to the lasagna’s still on the counter, “All food magic is **_green_** magic! Why would color matter if it’s just going to turn green in the end?”  
  
  
“That’s...” Stretch crossed his arms, thinking hard. That question had a whole lot to unpack right there. “Hm. Do you remember the nutrition unit in your health classes?”  
  
  
“Not at all!” Classic answered cheerfully, “When I started my training with Undyne, her first instruction was to-”  
  
  
He covered one socket with his glove, swinging his arm aggressively like he was holding a spear, pitching his voice a little higher, “Allright, punk, go ahead and forget everything you’ve ever learned about monster food and cooking! ‘Cause no class is ever gonna teach you **_this!"_**  
  
  
Edge smiled wistfully, shaking his head fondly, “Sounds like something she’d say.”  
  
  
“That’s because that was a direct quote!” Classic let his arms drop to rest on his waist, voice going back to its normal pitch, “Anyway, it’s been very difficult, and I have to make a conscious effort sometimes, but I’ve been _mostly_ successful!”  
  
  
“Yup,” Comic confirmed, leaning back against the tile with his eyes closed.  
  
  
“Thank you, Sans, that’s so nice of you to say!” Classic put a hand on his chest with dramatic flourish, gesturing grandly with the other, “And because the Great Papyrus endeavors to do his best in everything, I have forgotten _everything_ I could!”  
  
  
Spinning a nearby chair on its foot a few times, he immediately rested chin on his hands. Leaning forward on his knees eagerly like a school kid, Classic asked, “Explain everything I have forced myself to forget about nutrition to me, please?”  
  
  
Stretch looked to Edge for help, who just shook his head. His husband turned to the other skeletons, “Would you like anything to drink?”  
  
  
“Ooh, hot chocolate, please! For Sans too, because he will drink whatever you put in front of him!” He turned to his brother to double-check, but Comic was… already scooped up in Edge’s arms. Holding the shorter skeleton around the stomach by the arms, Edge handed Comic the kettle to hold as he turned on the faucet. A little weird, but that was one way to get around a handicap. And he knew _waaaay_ better than to try and tell Edge to put Comic down before he hurt himself.  
  
  
“Ok, well, while they’re doing that,“ Stretch crossed his arms, drumming his fingers against his humerus thoughtfully, “Uh. So... Monsters come in a variety of colors and shapes.”   
  
  
He pointed to each of them in turn, “This is because magic comes in a variety of shades and types. While we can affect the appearance of our magic, that doesn’t change the core, uh, base emotions that make it up. Those are blue for integrity, cyan for patience, green for kindness, purple for perseverance, orange for bravery, yellow for justice, and red for determination.”  
  
  
“Yes! This brings me back to my babybones days!” Classic looked delighted, clapping his hands together, “I remember Mrs. Bunny teaching us all of _this_ years ago! Will we get a snack afterwards, too?”  
  
  
“Today’s snack is Vietnamese-style clam marinara.” Edge answered wryly, glancing over his shoulder and smirking at Classic’s full body shudder.  
  
  
“Never mind! I am very happy to starve!” Classic turned to smile at Stretch brightly, “Please keep going over grade school knowledge!”  
  
  
Shaking his head, Edge had Comic turn the burner on before depositing him back on the countertop. Edge seemed confident enough to get the rest of the supplies on his own, at least, bringing down mugs and getting the cocoa and marshmallows.  
  
  
“So... yeah, that’s why monster magic is white!” Stretch made jazz hands before holding up an empty can of tomato sauce, “The ingredients we use are already magical, either produced or enhanced by storekeeper or farmer or rancher monsters or whatever. But, we still have to shape these ingredients into something new, right?“  
  
  
He put the can down to pick up a lasagna pan, precariously balancing it on the palm of his hand, “Cooking is, fundamentally, using the intent and the will of the chef to create a finished food product. Monster food is designed to heal monsters, so you’re right, Classic, most of it _is_ green magic. But the, uh, underlying base magic of the ingredients can retain some of their magic undertones.”  
  
  
Stretch put the pan down to... wave vaguely with his hands because he ran out of props. “And _that’s_ why some foods can have different effects on your stats even as they heal your HP!”  
  
  
“Like food with higher concentrations of perseverence magic could temporarily boost up your INV, right?” Comic asked, not looking up from his new assignment of dumping spoonfuls of cocoa powder into mugs. He didn’t wait for Stretch to answer before he listed off a few more, “And kindness-rich foods heal more HP, patience-rich food boost speed, and... determination-rich food boosts attack?”  
  
  
“Yeah, exactly!” Stretch was pleased with both the answers and unusual helpfulness, pulling out a sticker sheet from his hoodie and moving to put one on Sans’ forehead. It was a shooting star that said ‘Starrific!’ in sparkly blue letters. “I mean, regular monsters can’t, like, _see_ individual concentrations of magic in their food, we just sort of _feel_ the effects. I don’t know if pregnant monsters can see it?”  
  
  
Edge just sort of shrugged unhelpfully, very carefully handing Comic the kettle with a potholder over the handle. Stretch decided not to push it, “Uh, anyway, I’m still not super clear on this stuff,  but it changes the pregnant monster’s cooking intent, too. It keeps the ingredients base magic intact regardless if you stir fry, bake, charbroil, pressure cook, fricasse, or just chop it up and throw it on a plate. So, basically, everything and anything a pregnant monster makes is super colorful.”  
  
  
“I understand now!” Classic looked thoughtful, dusting his tights off as he stood up. He had been sitting on a chair, so it wasn’t like his clothes needed it (and honestly, with the way Edge kept house, their floor was probably clean enough to eat on,) but whatever made him happy. “Well then, Edge, you asked me for honesty about your dishes. So! I will give you what you asked for: the pure truth and nothing _but_ the truth!”  
  
  
 _Oh no._ Stretch cringed preemptively, barely noticing the cup of hot chocolate being pushed into his hands. Edge had asked for honesty but he was in no way fully prepared for it. His poor husband was in such a weird emotional place over this, vulnerable and insecure and dispirited in a way that was becoming worrisome, and he would not be able to handle a painfully blunt statement. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with Edge having a breakdown of some sort.  
  
  
 _“UM.”_ More than a little desperate, Stretch had no idea how to tell Classic to _not_ say anything without somehow implying that _he_ didn’t think this recipe came out so great. Because it was honestly fine, a little unusual, yeah, but it’s not like eating all three lasagna pans was going to be an extreme _sacrifice_ or anything like that.  
  
  
“Ok,” Edge took a deep breath, straightening his spine like he was getting ready for battle, “How does the lasagna taste?”  
  
  
Classic sighed, looking away guiltily, “These dishes aren’t up to your usual caliber. **_Not_** bad enough to make anyone who _isn’t_ pregnant with a very picky babybones want to throw up, but... It’s _not_ ** _good._** **Not** _terrible!”_ He waved his hands emphatically, “But… _not_ **good.”  
  
  
** “...” Edge tried to keep up an aloof demeanor, but it was clear that admission hurt him terribly. He was barely able to nod, looking at the lasagna pans with a look of crestfallen misery that even had Comic looking uncomfortable, “I know.”  
  
  
 ** _“But!”_** Classic took Edge’s hands with a squeeze, smile sincere as he emphatically clasped then to his chest, “I think it takes a **_very_** skilled chef to be able to make a _palatable_ meal with such a **huge** handicap! Intent is at the core of food preparation, after all! And **_I_** think that the ability to make an _edible_ meal, when you _yourself_ ** _can’t_** taste it to make adjustments, at all, makes you a **_master_** chef!”  
  
  
Edge was startled out of his misery, so surprised his eyes went comically wide, **_“Really?!?”  
  
  
_** “Chin up, my dear friend!” Classic crushed Edge to his chest with a sharp sigh, patting the back of his head consolingly, “As I, alas, know all too well, the culinary arts are a brutal and unforgiving field! But _I_ have not given up! And I know _you_ haven’t either!”  
  
  
Edge made a strange sound that Stretch didn’t like at all, but before he could even stand up to go investigate, his husband was hugging Classic back. Something cracked in Classic’s spine and he wheezed a little painfully, but he seemed happy enough with this response. “So,” He said a little breathlessly, rubbing Edge’s back, “For the nourishment of our bodies, and those special to us, let’s do our very best! Cooking together!”  
  
  
“Yes!” Edge didn’t say thank you, but there was a smile on his face- that real one that kind of made his sockets crinkle a little bit in that super cute way- as he stepped away. “Let’s go!” He got behind Classic, a definite bounce in his step as he pushed his alternate towards the cupboard.  
  
  
“You mean... cook right _now?!”_ Classic caught himself on the very edge of the counter, following Edge’s finger as he pointed at the topmost cupboard. “Right _this_ moment? _Immediately_ after you made mountains of food **_you_** _cannot_ consume and **_your husband_** does not _want_ to consume on his own?!”  
  
  
“That’s not true!” Stretch felt the need to interject, worrying at his wedding ring, “I’ll eat it all! _Happily!_ I know he worked hard on it, so-!“  
  
  
“It’s fine, _Papí,”_ Edge shook his head as he directed Classic to grab a frying pan, “You don’t need to eat not-good lasagna all by yourself.”  
  
  
He crouched down to rummage through a drawer, pulling out the ‘Grill Sergeant' apron, “Classic and Comic will help you!”  
  
  
 _“Us?!”_ Classic stooped down obediently, letting Edge (on tiptoes) tie the ribbon around his neck.  
  
  
“Of course!” Edge turned him around, making a big bow at his waist, “You’re going to be taking at least half of it back with you.”  
  
  
“That’s!” Classic paused for a moment too long, “Very generous of you!”  
  
  
“Anything for _you!”_ Edge pinched the other skeleton’s cheek before ushering him towards the sink. His husband _had_ asked for honesty, but it looked like he was punishing Classic. Sort of? Edge was hard to read, especially when it came to cooking, “But, as a Master Chef, I cannot send you home with _bad_ leftovers!” He handed Classic a hand towel, picking up the frying pan, “So, with my recipes and your tongue, let us make something you _want_ to eat again! What appetizes you?”  
  
  
“Ok!” Classic sounded fired up now, “I’ve always wanted to learn how to make that shrimp stew thing! It’s delicious!”  
  
  
“Which one, _encocado?_ Eh...” Edge sounded less sure of himself, “Seafood is my weakest recipe, and if the lasagna tastes bad-“  
  
  
“No! Don’t say that! That’s not **_Master_** Chef talk! That’s **_Nervous Nelly_** chef talk!” Classic poked him in the chest, “You must _believe_ in yourself! Take the bull in the china shop by the horns and supplex him! Supplex the shrimp!  
  
  
“Where you keep it? This freezer drawer?!” The taller skeleton crouched low, hovering over the now open freezer drawer, “How much shrimp? The whole bag?”  
  
  
“Yes. And also take out the _corvina-_ no, the white fish- yes!” Edge pulled open a drawer, taking out a knife before rummaging in a different cupboard for the cutting board, “First, put them in the sink so they’ll unfreeze. There’s a bowl in there I used earlier, if you put some water in it- exactly! Fish and shrimp don’t take as long, so only do it an hour or less before you need it.”  
  
  
He put the pan on the stove, putting a little olive oil in the pan, “Now, the key to this and every recipe is having a good _refrito_. For that you need onion, garlic- fresh is better but the powder is faster- tomatoes, _comino_ , a dash of _achiote_ for color, and for this recipe, let’s also put some bell peppers-“  
  
  
They probably had it covered now. An unforseen but wonderful turn of events. Stretch turned to look for Comic, not the least bit surprised to find him sitting back at the table. Using his arms as a pillow to catch 40 winks, Comic seemed like he was onto something-  
  
  
“Stretch! Comic!” Papyrus called over his shoulder, standing in front of the stove as Edge busied himself chopping vegetables, “Come on, you lazybones! You are both on dish duty!”  
  
  
Of course.  
  
  
“If you want to eat,” Edge didn’t look up from his task, sliding some onion into the pan before starting on the peppers, “You work.”  
  
  
Comic smiled, sitting up immediately with a tired wink, “Playin’ _dirty_ , huh? Well, I’ll dry if you wash.”  
  
  
Stretch loved him a little bit more for that, watching Edge’s shoulders relax from the corner of his eye. Rolling up his sleeves, he nodded with a growing grin, _“Fork_ yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I dislike science," I say as I scramble to develop a whole nutritional system that justifies my overly-complex monster pregnancy headcanons.  
> Still super proud of this whole system, tho! Hope it makes sense. :'D

**Author's Note:**

> *~*~*~*~*SPOILER START ~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
> Parent-Infant Concurrent Palate Effect (PICPE) occurs to pregnant monsters during their second quarter, when the Souling is building up their personal magic reserves. Since Green Magic is provided by the non-pregnant parent/other sources, the PICPE ensures the pregnant monster obtains the other 6 core magic types/colors. The Souling 'decides' what magic they're missing after they receive green magic, and will reject any type of magic that does not correspond to their specified needs. That means that pregnant monsters are forced to consume only foods of that specific type and specific amount, and will not be able to eat any other kind of food until these needs are met. Pregnant monsters also develop the ability to 'break down' monster food into their core ingredient type, which corresponds to their actual color, ie. blueberries are blue (Integrity) magic, eggplants are purple (perseverance) magic, etc.* This impacts their cooking abilities as well.
> 
> Edge is understandably upset at this loss of control, especially because it impacts his ability to cook. Cooking is an important way he shows he cares and takes care of his loved ones, so this is pretty devastating for him. He also greatly resents the fact he can't chose his food freely and is held at Pancake's whims, but that doesn't really impact this part or chapter as much. 
> 
> *Special thank you to SkellyTelly who was instrumental in helping develop this idea! <3  
> ~*~*~**~*~*~SPOILER END~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking through the RVR with me so far! <3 I can't believe this has 10 parts already, and still plenty more to come! It's a little bit slow now, but it'll start picking up really fast! C:<
> 
> As always, I'm so very grateful you stopped by to read my story! Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews and comments! There's also an [ RVR tumblr](https://redvelvetreel.tumblr.com/) where I post sneak peaks, fun trivia, and artwork, so please stop by !


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